Finding the Lost City Chapter 8

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Chapter 9

Chapter 8

 

The Road Back to Bonampak

 

Frey finally did get involved with an expedition returning to Bonampak, and it was one for which Diego Rivera and David Siqueiros pushed. It seems logical that two of Mexico’s leading muralists would be intrigued with the idea of a Mexican expedition to see the ancient murals. No doubt, Rivera’s abiding interest in indigenous people helped propel the plan forward. Thus, eventually the Institute of Fine Arts in Mexico City agreed to sponsor the trip in early 1949.

However, the first Mexican expedition to Bonampak could not have an American leading it, so Carlos was to be Camp Chief, and second in command. This was not the best situation, but not an opportunity he could pass up. After all his dreams of vindicating his claims to Bonampák’s discovery, he was not about to stay behind if he could help it.

According to one account, neither the Institute of Anthropology nor the sponsoring agency wanted him to go at all. In this version, Siqueiros used his pull to get him on the trip. As a major force in Mexican art, his wishes were something to be reckoned with. While he was in a relatively placid period in his career, his history as a firebrand could have had something to do with the sponsor acceding to his wishes in the matter of Frey going.

Possibly, Carlos’ lack of influence may be shown by the fact that at one point Rivera sent him a letter, asking him to include a particular woman on the trip, but Frey was not able to help his friend. On the other hand, Rivera may have known that he could not help him, and merely wrote the letter to please a current paramour. Nonetheless, Frey was unable to get the party to leave in February or March so he would be able to avoid the rainy season.

The trip plan involved Carlos taking support staff from Tenosique through the jungle to clear enough terrain for a small airfield for their chartered plane at what was left of El Cedro. There he hired others to help including as guide, Pedro Pech, a local Maya who had guided a number of groups into the Lacandón jungle before. This trek to El Cedro came off without any apparent problems, but from then on, the expedition seemed ill-fated up until it was aborted after the tragedy.

In finally gathering at Tuxtla Gutierrez on April 15, 1949, the trip members found that this was the time of year for fields to be slashed and burnt according to local farming techniques. Smoke lay heavy in the air, and the chartered plane could not fly for several days due to poor visibility. They stayed at the newly named and rather expensive Hotel Bonampak chatting and waiting.

The group consisted of fourteen major expedition members, all of whom, except for Carlos were city people with only a dim view of what they were getting into. Sponsored by the Mexican National Institute of Fine Arts were the following members:

In addition, Carlos’ group awaiting them consisted of two arrieros, a guide and boatman, a cook with her two young children, and numerous Lacandons who dropped in and out from time to time.

Also, two army signalmen would remain at the base camp, with radio equipment during the planned ten days of the main expedition. Unfortunately, the radio was not very useful. Because of a technical problem, they could only send messages, and not receive them. Obviously, they were not sure their transmissions could be heard.

Finally, after biding their time in Tuxtla for five days the first group of five explorers were able to fly in. Unfortunately, after that their hired aircraft crashed. While no one was harmed during the mishap, no replacement could be obtained until four days later.

Then a second group got off in the air, but the new pilot did not know the area, nor did he even have a map. After a frustrating odyssey, these would-be explorers found themselves back at the hotel.

On April 27, three airplanes flew in to take the remaining members. Thus, after a short flight, the whole group was finally assembled at El Cedro, along with the remainder of what Frans Blom later claimed was three tons of gear and supplies.

On their arrival at El Cedro, the group was taken aback. While they had not expected the comforts of Mexico City, most of them longed for some amenities besides a thatched roof hut with nonexistent walls. But that was exactly what they got. Any animal or insect could enter at will, though, since it was the end of the dry season, there was little, if any trouble, that night with mosquitoes.

While it is unlikely that Carlos misled anyone about the conditions, the group did not expect them to be quite so rustic. At this time, El Cedro was no longer a bustling chicle camp. It now consisted of two "champas", — thatched huts — one large and one small, which until this trip had most likely been abandoned for some time.

An existing picture of the larger hut during the trip shows a very uneven thatch, quite unlike what one would expect of normal jungle construction. Most likely, in their hurry to get the small overgrown airfield into some sort of shape, Carlos and the workmen spent little time on other forms of infrastructure. The newcomers settled in for the night as well as they could.

There was a certain excitement in the air. No longer dreaming in Mexico City or dawdling in Tuxtla Gutierrez, they were finally in the jungle. The sounds of the forest were something most of them had never known. At night, the Lacandón forest seems so very alive with all its noisy insects, howler monkeys, and other strange sounds; it is a wonder the group slept at all.

The original plan was for there to be a total of ten people on the expedition, including support staff, and that is apparently what Carlos planned for. Although they were tight on finances, and though little or no extra funding seems to have been added, more people were. Juana, the cook, even brought her two small children, because she had no one to leave them with.

A problem that became apparent the next day was that Frey had been able to hire only five mules to transport the massive amount of equipment the others insisted on. At first, this even included a large amount of bottled water. Also among these "necessities" were a liquor cabinet, a cedar chest, and a generator in a large wooden box.

Even with the collapsible canoe they brought to use on the somewhat parallel route along the Lacanha River, there was no way to take all the material, nor even all the trip members at the same time. Among other things, they believed they had left behind a lot of canned food to be brought by the three remaining behind.

The group members were surprised at the metamorphosis of Frey. Gone was the somehow almost timid raconteur most of them had met in Mexico City. Instead, they got to know the busy and self-assured Camp Chief, Carlos Frey.  Sotomayor compared him to "a weaver’s shuttle that never stops for a moment."

The next morning, everyone but the two artists, Raul Anguiano and Jorge Olvera, and the chemist, Andres Sanchez, headed out toward the ruins. Less necessary for now, they would come later, because of the transportation problem. The advance group took turns crossing the river in a canoe.

On the other side, the main group started out in single file for Bonampak, while Manuel Cu took Luis Lara, the cook and one Lacandón in the canoe. Carlos went ahead in front of the rest with the arriero, Pedro Pech.  and Manuel Cu. The guide was Nicho Blancas, and he led Pedro Alvarado, Luis Lara, Franco Gomez, Arturo Sotomayor, Luis Morales, Manuel Alvarez, Dr. Jose Puig, Alberto Arai, Carlos Margain, and Julio Prieto.

Once they crossed the river, and slipped under the forest canopy, they were both surprised and quite a bit relieved at how much cooler it was in the jungle than in the clearing or on the river. However, they later found that it was cool only by contrast, and that one can be drenched in sweat while hiking in tropical shade.

The trip members were a bit of a problem. Owing to the rigors of the trail, the elderly Luis Lara would soon have needed to ride one of their few mules. Also, their expedition doctor was the portly Jose Puig who rode a mule when he could. And, it appears that none of the others were particularly energetic.

Back then there were essentially three ways to get to Bonampak, each of which began with flying into El Cedro. The most direct route from there, which involved trudging along a path through numerous creeks and gullies directly to the east of the camp was not much in demand by anyone with baggage.

The second way was to paddle by canoe down the El Cedro River to the Lacanha, then down that waterway to a point almost an hour away from the site, and to hike the rest of the way.

The third and most common route was to first cross the El Cedro River by canoe, follow a trail along the southern shore, cross again about a kilometer before it joins the Lacanha, and hike to that river. There, they would ford it at a place called El Tumbo, then follow the river’s course along a roughly parallel trail past Obregon’s caribal, or settlement, to Bonampak. Like most, this group chose the third route.

Around noon, they trudged up to a hut that Frans Blom had built and stayed in, probably during his 1948 trip to the area. There, the Lacandón, Carranza (also known as Kayum) was waiting for them, in order to act as their guide.

The group stopped to rest. Carlos and the arrieros apparently lagged behind somewhere along the way, but were to meet them by nightfall. Despite their desire to relax, Carranza interested a couple of the expeditioners in seeing a ruin not very far away.

Most of the men, however, chose to sit around bathing in their own sweat, rather than battle the jungle vines to see some minor site. Only Prieto and Margain cared to go off with Kayum.

The remaining men spent some time talking with Carranza’s two wives. Sotomayor, the newspaperman, reported his conversation with one of the women, who like the rest, spoke in a very broken form of Spanish when she spoke it at all.

"Tú .Como tú llamas?" .(What is your name?)

"Arturo," he responded.

"Tiene peine? Tiene gargantía?" .(Do you have a comb? Do you have a necklace?)

Since his gifts for the Lacandons were buried somewhere in all his luggage, they were not accessible at the moment. Sotomayor assured the woman that when the group arrived at the ruins, he would give her both.

"Tú amigo? Tú como Ron Calo? Tú no mentira?" (Are you a friend? Are you like Don Carlos? You aren’t lying?)

Again he assured her, saying that he was like Carlos, and that he did not lie.

Shortly, Carranza returned and explained that Prieto wanted Morales to come with his camera to take some pictures. Suddenly, some of the others became interested in this side trip. Dr. Puig, along with Sotomayor, Gomez and Alvarez took off for the site. Once there, they saw two structures: one a vine covered pyramid, and the other, some sort of temple. There was a large broken stela, or stone monument, nearby with hieroglyphic dates that Margain translated. Inside a room, they saw the name, CARLOS FREY, inscribed in ink. 

The Lacandons called the ruin Uinik Nah, meaning House of the People. It was said to lie two and one half kilometers south by southwest of the junction of the two rivers.

As fate would have it, Sotomayor and Gomez became separated from the rest of the group, and got lost. Once they admitted to each other that they were disoriented, they decided to stay in one place, and call out for help. At last, they heard a responding cry. Prieto heard them and approached, but their joy was short-lived because he sheepishly admitted that he, too, was lost.

There should be no shame in becoming lost in the Lacandón Jungle. Each creek bed looks much the same as its twin a few kilometers beyond. While there are many species of trees, each one appears to be very similar to its counterparts back at that last ridge or right behind one.

Finally, however, Carranza heard Sotomayor, Prieto and Gomez yelling. To their great relief, he came to lead them back.

Because of this event and others, the trip members became very impressed with the Lacandons’ ability to travel in the jungle without seeming to need a trail or to leave one. No doubt, it was valuable skills such as this that kept armies, clergymen, and tax collectors at bay for centuries. The trip members were also quite impressed by the Lacandón marksmanship with both bows and rifles.

Owing to what he judged as the lateness of the hour, as leader, Prieto decided that they would spend the night where they had rested. The city men must certainly have been tired, and they could not be certain of how soon Carlos and the equipment would show up.

The expedition members set up camp, and at around three P.M., Carlos, the arrieros, the cook and her children all arrived. At some point, the Lacandón, Obregon, along with his family, appeared on the scene.

Juana immediately began to prepare dinner. While this consisted only of leftovers from El Cadro of garbanzo beans and pheasant, the lack of any lunch probably helped whet any wayward appetites.

After the meal, one of the Lacandón children began to cry, and would not stop. Dr. Puig wanted to look at the child, but the mother would not hear of it. Both Frey and Obregon spoke quietly with her, and she relented.

His diagnosis was that it was a severe case of malaria. The doctor reached into his bag, pulled out some quinine pills, and presented them to the mother.

Dr. Puig was suddenly very popular, and the Lacandons brought another child forward. This one had an inflammation in the spleen, which can be a symptom of a number of ailments, including malaria. Again, he brought out some pills, hopefully quinine, and became quite a hero.

Later, the group overheard the threatening voice of Obregon. His rifle was broken, and he wanted Carlos to fix it immediately. Frey offered to take it to Tenosique when the trip was over, but the Lacandón wanted it done immediately. It did no good to show that a screw was missing, and that none was available. Obregon just became more adamant.

Pedro Pech took the gun into his hands. He peered closely at it, and then at Obregon.

"I think we can fix it without the screw," said Pedro. "We will set it right here with a wood splinter. Tenosique is so far away."

He worked on the rifle, and gave it back to the mollified Lacandón. One of the onlookers, Sotomayor, added a pleasantry.

"Say, Pedro, your name is Mayan, right?"

"Pedro is a modern name," he responded.

"The reason I asked was because I understood that at the time of the Conquest, one of the reigning families was called ‘Pech.’ "

In any cross cultural exchange, it is easy for some attempt at conversation to go awry. In this case, Pedro began to blush, lowered his eyes and did not respond. Quickly, the merry voice of Manuel Cu rang out.

"That is good. Pech means nothing more than ‘wood tick.’ Didn’t you know? "

Some of them had a good laugh about it. Unfortunately, no one can respond honestly to a gaggle of ignorant tourists, especially when they are paying the wages. Instead, Pedro  decided that he needed to check on the mules, and he walked quietly into the night.

Around nine in the evening, Prieto asked the company to get some sleep for their early start in the morning. Despite this, a number remained awake for a time trading anecdotes and ideas.

After Alberto Arai decided to turn in, he lay down in his hammock with every intention of closing his eyes to greet a jungle Morpheus. However, Carranza must have been fascinated with the baby faced architect, because he pulled himself away from his wives, and came over to visit Arai.

The Lacandón stood silently, like a white robed ghost in the night, and then announced that he wanted to be with Arai. At that point, Carranza sat down on the hammock. To the pleasant surprise of a very tired Alberto, a badly tied knot gave way, and the hammock fell, with both of them to the ground. The apparently embarrassed man rushed away, leaving Arai with what he felt was a well deserved chance to get some sleep.

After the chatting voices in the night lapsed into silence, Manuel Cu began singing some old songs. Sotomayor described them as having "a tint of sweet melancholy." No doubt, if that had been the last sound heard, it would have finished off the day very nicely.

However, a bit later in the night, one of Carranza’s wives began singing the always eerie "Song of the Jaguar." Concerned that visitors were afraid of the large jungle felines, and believing that the spirit of one lived in a temple of the ruins they were going to, she hoped in song to keep it away.

While there is nothing unhappy about the words of that song, the Lacandón rendition became more and more sad with each passing stanza, and did more to instill fear than to calm anyone. Fortunately, soon Carlos joined in, singing along in Lacandón, and everyone felt not only reassured, but surprised that the North American could think and sing like a Lacandón. After that, there was relative silence and everyone slept.

On April 29, they quickly ate some more leftovers, drank some coffee, and were on their way by nine a.m., striving to make up for their poor time traveling the previous day. This time Carlos and the mule drivers stayed with the city men. With Nicho as his assistant, Pedro forged ahead to clear the path by hacking with their machetes.

Soon they all came to a creek they had to cross on a very large tree trunk. Old Luis Lara rode up to it on his mule, and the animal promptly refused to go over. Some of the others came to help, and tried to push both man and beast forward. However, this was a mistake, because the animal went into open rebellion, reared up, and nearly threw the old man into the water.

Marco Gomez, the engraver, grabbed the mule, and held him until he calmed down. After that, archaeologist, Carlos Margain came forward, and carried Lara across the bridge on his back. Then they were able to coax the now unencumbered animal forward and across the creek.

The group sweated onward, struggling through the remnants of the vines left by the forward machetes. They climbed over fallen trees, and waded across creeks, sometimes cursing, sometimes as quiet as Carlos. Of the city men, only Alvarez, Morales, and Margain seemed at times in good spirits, even joking and admiring their surroundings. From the others sprang, from time to time, the question so familiar to traveling parents, "When are we going to BE there?"

At a few points along the way, they appear to have lightened the optimistic loads on the mules. They left caches of food and other materials behind as they struggled onward, planning to retrieve them later.

They crossed El Cedro River again. Within a kilometer or two, they could hear the murmur of another body of water, and Carlos exclaimed that they were at the Lacanha River right before it came into sight. The ford was called El Tumbo, which means a tumble or fall, but not in the sense of a waterfall. Tumbos were places where the mahogany lumbermen would tumble their logs into a stream to float them down to market.

There, Frey and the arrieros tied up the mules, and he, along with Nicho, began to lead the others across the strong current. The men began to cross, getting everything but their watches and flashlights wet in the process.

Sotomayor did not want to take his boots off, so he tried to stay in the shallower water while crossing. Unfortunately, this approach took him where a wrong step would have taken him into a torrent that could have swept him away.

Carlos glanced back, and saw the danger that Arturo was oblivious to. Frey waded back as quickly as he could. He seized Arturo’s arm and pulled him into deeper water, while warning him of the danger. Then he went back to the arrieros to help them to cross.

Safely on the other side, the travelers stopped to chat, take pictures, and watch the spectacle of the mules and arrieros crossing. With the current so strong, their fording was not a simple matter. As the shouting, cursing men were straining to drive the ever-obstinate animals forward, one beast lost its footing. All of its cargo was drenched, but when it finally surged up, it and the others forged on, finally struggling up to the shore.

They decided to put the portable canoe together, and send Manuel, Carranza, and Luis Lara along with the cook and her daughter, downriver in it. As soon as Juana’s little son, Catalino, got wind of the plan, he became hysterical, and clung screaming to his mother’s dress.

On reflection, they all decided that, perhaps, there was enough room for the boy, too. They were certainly glad to see him go.

This group stepped into the canoe, and prepared to embark. Carranza noticed that the Lara was trembling. With a frankness common to Lacandons, Carranza told the old man his opinion: " You very old. You die. You no arrive ruins." Then, they were off and on their way. No doubt, Lara was greatly pleased when he actually did make it there safely.

The remaining travelers continued on foot with Frey in their lead. Further ahead were still Nicho and Pedro, and their sharp machetes. Obregon had gone on before them, but Kayum and his retinue hiked along with them.

From there, it was five kilometers to the settlement of Obregon. There, they were surprised to find that the heat of the jungle was nothing compared to the clearing where Obregon’s huts were. Leaving the overhanging trees was like jumping into a broiler oven. They scurried across the opening into the shade of the main thatched building.

As guests, they enjoyed a meal of plantain. Obregon also gave them some produce for their trip, including sugar cane, papayas, and more plantain.

They dawdled for two hours, eating and talking. The normally withdrawn Marco Gomez even came up to Sotomayor and spoke at length. He intimated that as soon as he heard about Bonampák, he had wanted to go and see it. And here he was. Still, there was a certain excitement and fear. Well, maybe not fear, exactly.

Before this interlude, Arturo Sotomayor had been laboring under the impression that he was the only one who felt that way, and was greatly relieved. He was also very much impressed that Marco kept his snake bite kit on a chord around his neck. Arturo realized quite vividly how his own was buried somewhere deep inside his heavy luggage.

Eventually, Carlos and the arrieros packed up the mules. This was not a simple matter. Loading up one mule could take two arrieros from ten to fifteen minutes. First they would place on its back two or more wet sheepskins. Then they would position the main package on its back, later arranging whatever other packs they thought the animal could handle. Then they would tie everything together.

Frey and the arrieros headed out with the animals. Perhaps, taking the hint, the others shambled to their feet and grudgingly followed.

After two hours’ rest, they were again on their way, passing through some ravines, and sweating heavily from the humidity. After a certain point, the pathways in the Lacandón Jungle always seem to have yet another knoll to hike over, yet another stream to cross or yet another bend to go around.

Still, as they neared their goal, a certain enthusiasm began to grow. They ignored the overbearing heat, as well as the perspiration that dripped from them as they marched on.

 

 

Chapter 9

 

C